Authors: Liz Curtis Higgs
Love my sister
. “So.” Jamie narrowed his eyes. “When did you read my letter?”
Duncan chuckled. “I ken naught aboot a letter. I’ve merely watched ye tryin’ tae be kind round the girl, pullin’ back on yer impatience, bitin’ yer tongue. Things a man does if he’s bent on doin’ richt by his wife. Guid things, mind ye. But ye’re holdin’ back the rest o’ ye.”
Jamie flinched, as if Duncan had brandished a knife, so close to the bone did the man’s words cut him.
“Let her climb inside a corner of yer heart, lad.” Duncan thumped soundly on Jamie’s chest. “ ’Tis big enough now.”
Jamie turned away, hiding his grief. But he could not keep it out of his voice. “You ask too much.”
“I’m not the one wha’s askin’, Jamie.”
Duncan’s words trailed after him for days, then a week, then two, nipping at his heels like one of the collies.
Show yer new wife what it means tae be luved
. It was plain Rose was showering
him
with affection. His favorite ginger jam waited by his breakfast plate. A stack of neatly hemmed handkerchiefs appeared in the clothes press. She wore her hair down the way he liked it, with the braid curling about her shoulder. And—the most telling of all—she kept her sharp tongue well sheathed and her soft arms wrapped round his shoulders at night.
More than once of late he’d caught a glimpse of the Rose he’d kissed on the day he’d arrived at Auchengray. The charming Rose who’d stolen his breath and then his heart.
Sweet. Innocent
.
A sad irony, compared to how he felt.
Bitter. And guilty
.
Bitter over having his future decided for him yet again. And guilty for kissing Leana in the bothy, longing for more.
’Twas a temptation
. Aye, it was that. Knowing Leana as he did, he should have realized she would not simply rise the next morning as if nothing had happened. Nae, not his Leana. She had run to the kirk; then she had run to Twyneholm.
She ran to get away from you, Jamie
.
And left him to face the woman he’d wronged. The same woman he couldn’t bring himself to forgive.
Rose
.
Love my sister
. Aye, he was trying. Except it did not feel like love; it
felt like betrayal. Even though he’d loved Rose before. Even though he cared for her now. Even though the kirk said they were rightfully wed.
Husbands, love your wives
. Could he do as the Buik commanded? Could he forgive Rose and love her again?
Sixty-Eight
A woman’s love
Is mighty, but a mother’s heart is weak,
And by its weakness overcomes.
J
AMES
R
USSELL
L
OWELL
N
ae! Not again
.
Rose washed the stain from her nightgown, drenching the fabric with her tears.
Why, why, why?
No matter how hard she scrubbed it with soap, the faint red outline remained. Reminding her. Taunting her.
You will never be a mother
.
Another four weeks had come and gone, taking her hopes with them. Still no bairn grew in her womb. Leana was so fertile she had conceived Ian on her wedding night.
But not you, Rose
. She threw the nightgown into a basket and quit the laundry room, blowing out the candle as she went. Following the dim passageway toward the main part of the house, Rose felt her spirits lift the smallest notch at the sound of a certain shepherd laughing in the kitchen: Jamie, preparing to head out for the morning.
With the lambing finished, the fruit of Jamie’s labors gamboled o’er the pastures of Auchengray, twin lambs beside every woolly ewe. In mere weeks the flocks had more than doubled in size. ’Twas so remarkable a feat of shepherding even Reverend Gordon had given the Almighty praise for the bountiful provision during services: “Whereof every one beareth twins, and there is not one barren among them.” Her father had beamed, as if ’twere his doing. After having his older daughter climb the repentance stool and then flee the parish, the bonnet laird of Auchengray needed a reason to hold up his head again at kirk.
Rose needed a reason too; she needed a child. Proof that she and Jamie had truly married and were living as husband and wife. Otherwise,
the gossips would begin to blether that, while Mr. McKie’s ewes were fertile, his wife was barren.
She emerged into the kitchen—the brightest and warmest room in any season—and found a flock of maidservants gathered round Jamie like so many ewes. But he was not looking at them. He was looking at her. Not with desire perhaps. But warm regard was a welcome improvement. After a long and chilly month together, Jamie was beginning to thaw. To look at her without evading her gaze. To listen to her without clenching his jaw. And, aye, to embrace her on occasion without seeming to hold her at arm’s length.
The Jamie she had once known and loved was no more. This man was different. Older. Kinder. And wiser in ways she did not fully understand. Jamie did not love her as he loved Leana. But he no longer resented her, and for that she was grateful. Theirs was a marriage of compromise: She had stopped expecting so much, and Jamie, it seemed, had stopped expecting so little. He was hers alone, and in that she took what solace she could.
Jamie extended his arm to her, a gentleman in shepherd’s garb. “Will you take a walk with me in the garden, Rose?”
She couldn’t refuse so gallant an offer. They headed for the back door together, leaving the maidservants in their wake, and stepped into the fresh air of a late April morning. After a month of showers everything was growing in thick, green abundance. She couldn’t begin to name the flowers, but the vegetables were easily recognized. Salad onions and fist-sized heads of cabbage, planted last autumn, would be carted off to the kitchen soon enough and a few stray leeks from last season picked before new seeds were sown.
“Now all the garden needs is Leana,” Rose said lightly, testing the waters. Perhaps the more they spoke of her sister, the less Jamie would mourn her absence. Leana was not coming back; Jamie had assured her of that. Rose was chagrined to discover that nothing relieved—and saddened—her more.
“Your sister has a gift for gardening,” Jamie agreed. His voice, pleasant but even, gave away nothing. “I’m glad Eliza has taken to poking in
the soil in her stead.” He gazed up at the sky. “It’s been a fine April. Wet, as usual, but mild enough.”
“Aye, mild.” She could not seem to brighten her voice to match the weather.
They walked past Leana’s physic garden. Rose pretended not to see the valerian, taller than it had been a month ago. If she stared at the soil long enough, she could almost see two faint indentations where Leana had knelt, pressing the plant back into the earth.
Forgive me, Leana
. She’d been unforgivably cruel to her sister that day.
Are you asking me how to please my husband?
Leana had fled to Twyneholm to get away from her selfish younger sister; that was the only possible explanation, for Leana would ne’er have left Jamie and Ian otherwise.
“What’s wrong, Rose? You’re entirely too quiet this morning.”
When had Jamie become so perceptive? ’Twas a bothersome state of affairs when a lass could not keep her feelings hidden from a man. “I discovered … that is, I am not …” ’Twas too shameful a thing to mention. Rose aimed her gaze at a row of cabbages. “I’m not … expecting a child.”
“Ah. I see.”
Was he glad? Disappointed? Would he tell her if she asked?
Och!
She was married to Jamie and yet did not truly know him. Would he ever trust her with his whole heart?
“Perhaps ’Tis best you’re not with child just yet, Rose.” He patted her arm like a sympathetic cousin. Not like a devastated husband. “I have some … some news I hope to share with you in the next day or so.”
News?
She swallowed a small knot of apprehension. “Will you not give me a hint, Jamie?”
“I’ve a few details to attend to first. But soon.” He turned to her then, his eyes the color of the nettle leaves at their feet. “Are you well enough for a journey, Rose?”
He means Twyneholm
.
’Twas all painfully clear. Jamie could not bear to be apart from Leana another hour. Or her sister had written Jamie, begging him to bring Ian to see her. Or Leana was coming home, and they would meet her carriage in Dumfries.
Rose tried to sound nonchalant. “A … journey? Of course, Jamie. Whatever you say.”
Say it isn’t Twyneholm. Please, please!
“Fine then. We’ll talk more later, Le- … uh, Rose.”
She gasped. He had never called her
Leana
. Not once, not ever.
“Och, lass!” The look on his face was one of horror. He grasped both her hands, pulling her round where she could not turn away. “I am sorry, Rose. Truly, I am.”
He was so polite, so genuinely upset, her disappointment soon faded. “I ken you did not mean to confuse us. We are sisters, but in few ways are we alike.”
A flicker in his eyes, no more. “Very few,” he agreed.
Too few
, she heard behind the words.
“Rose!” Lachlan’s loud voice startled them both. He strode across the garden, dressed in his riding clothes, his boots gleaming with fresh polish. “ ’Tis good I’ve found you both, for I’ve news that cannot wait.”
News?
Rose looked up at Jamie. ’Twas obvious that he, too, was mystified. However, it was her father’s expression that gave her pause. He was flushed, almost smiling, clearly pleased about something. As if he’d been awarded a great fortune or made some significant discovery.
Or perhaps …
Her hands grew cool.
Perhaps Leana has come home
. “What is it, Father?”
Lachlan’s grin, seldom seen, was unmistakable. “I have decided to take a wife.”
“A …
wife?
” Rose could not hide her surprise. “Whoever might that be?”
Jamie spoke first, his tone even. “I believe I ken.”
“Aye, and well you might, lad.” Lachlan nodded at them both. “Mistress Morna Douglas of Edingham.”
“The widow from Dalbeaty?” Rose blinked, trying to imagine her father married to a stranger, to someone other than her mother. For that matter, married at all. “News indeed, Father.” Jamie had met the woman and her sons, but the rest of them had not. “Will she come to live at Auchengray?”
“And where else would my wife live?”
Rose watched the questions that moved across Jamie’s features and wondered if they matched hers.
Was it a marriage of convenience, or did he truly care for the woman? And what of the woman’s three sons? Would they move here as well?
Rose dared not ask for such details; instead, she said what was expected of her. “Father, that is … wonderful news. I am happy for you.”
“So you should be, for she will bring considerable … ah, skills to Auchengray.”
And silver
. She saw it in his eyes now.
And land. And cattle
.
“When will you marry?”
“Soon, soon,” was all he said, brushing lint off his sleeve. “She is a woman of property. ’twill take some time to sort out the arrangements.”
Though Lachlan had made room for the widow in his thrifite, Rose was less convinced he’d prepared a space for her in his heart. Did the Widow Douglas know the man she was marrying? His pernickitie habits, his devious ways? “I wish you the best, Father.” Rose reached for Jamie’s hand, suddenly needing the warmth of her husband’s touch. He might have married her out of duty but never out of greed. “Do keep us informed as your plans unfold.”
“Aye, you can be verra sure I will.” Lachlan departed as swiftly as he’d appeared, leaving the two of them adrift in the backwash.
Rose studied the wedding band on her hand for a moment, then met Jamie’s steady gaze. If he was troubled, it did not show. “What’s to be done, Jamie? Surely her sons will join her. I’m afraid we haven’t enough room at Auchengray for four more people.”
“Indeed we do not,” he agreed, his gaze lifting to the vacant second-floor bedroom. “Though we certainly have room for one.”
Sixty-Nine
Experience is guid,
but aften dear bought.
S
COTTISH
P
ROVERB
T
hat April evening another woman departed from Auchengray.
“Jenny, you’ve done a fine job with our Ian this month.” Stepmother and wet nurse stood on Auchengray’s lawn in the gloaming and eyed their mutual charge. “Hasn’t she taken guid care of you, lad?” Rose cuddled the babe in her arms, bouncing him a little to see if he might smile for her. “Look how round your cheeks are and your little belly!” She lifted his chubby knee and kissed it. “Aye, and your legs, too.”
“Ian will lose a’ that whan he starts tae crawlin’,” Jenny assured her. “My Davie is sleek as a trout, swimmin’ round the house.”
Rose smiled, though another thread of worry wound itself around her heart. Ian could sit and play without tumbling over now, content to stay at her feet while she mended stockings or carded wool. But how would she keep up with him, let alone finish her tasks, once he started crawling? Leana had warned her:
’Tis a great deal of work, mothering
. Rose had been too busy entertaining Ian at the time to mark her sister’s meaning.
Rose walked a few steps farther before she finally confessed, “I’ll miss you, Jenny. You ken so much about looking after bairns. I’m not … always sure … that is …” Her voice trailed off. What could she say? That the responsibility of mothering Ian was overwhelming? That she lived in fear of making a mistake? Leana had sacrificed everything for Ian’s sake. Could
she
do the same? Could she be the mother Ian deserved?
Jenny’s brown eyes studied her. “Mistress McKie, would ye care tae walk me hame tae Glensone? I’m thinkin’ I might have a wird or twa tae help ye wi’ Ian.”
“Och, that would be grand. Wouldn’t it, lad?” Rose positioned Ian more firmly round her hip as the two women started down the lane together, matching their gaits. Ian liked nothing better than an outing. “He has two more teeth now. Is that why he drools so?”